by Tom Murphy
Anya Oh, Dunyasha –
Dunyasha No! You’ll never guess what.
Anya (listless) What this time?
Dunyasha Yepikhodov has proposed to me. The clerk.
Anya Oh, Dunyasha –
Dunyasha No! At Easter!
Anya [‘You’re’] Still at it. I’ve lost all my hairpins. (Then a half-swoon: tiredness.)
Dunyasha I don’t know, though. But he does, does, really love me.
Anya (looking into her room) Aaaaa! My room. As though I had never been away. I’m home! Tomorrow when I wake up I shall be here. And I shall get up and I shall run out and into and through the orchard. (Tiredness again.) But, oooh, if only I could get to sleep! I didn’t sleep all the way because of worries.
Dunyasha Peter Sergeich has arrived.
Anya (pleased) Petya!
Dunyasha Two days ago.
Anya (a new thought, silently to herself) Oh. (A worry.)
Dunyasha He’s sleeping in the bath-house, he’s living there. I don’t want to put anyone out, he said – Should I wake him up? Varvara said don’t: ‘Don’t-you-Dunyasha-wake him!’ But should I, for you?
Varya comes in, a bunch of keys at her belt. (She is superstitiously religious, sentimental, well-intentioned and sexually frustrated.)
Varya Coffee, Dunyasha, quickly. Mamochka wants coffee.
Dunyasha Varvara Mikhaylovna, at once. (And she’s gone.)
Varya Well! Let me look at you. You’ve arrived, and safely, thank God, thank God. (Stroking Anya’s hair.) My beautiful one is back!
Anya And what a business.
Varya I can imagine.
Anya Snow and ice when I left, Charlotta talking the whole way there and doing her conjuring tricks – What did I do to deserve Charlotta’s company?
Varya But you could hardly have gone on your own – at seventeen?!
Anya But we got there – at last. Paris. More snow, more cold – and my French is terrible. Mama is living on a fourth floor of this place. She has Frenchmen there, des dames, dressed up, drinks, a little old priest, a little black book in his hand all the time, cigarette smoke all over. So – messy. Messy. Unreal. And suddenly I felt sad. I felt so sorry for her. I took her face in my hands, I felt so sad. Then she started to cry, and I held her. Mama.
Varya Don’t tell me, Anya, you’re only upsetting yourself. (Varya is the one who’s upset.)
Anya The house she bought in Monaco? That’s gone. She’d already sold that. We had barely enough to get back here. I had nothing. She doesn’t grasp the situation. We get out at a station to eat and the most expensive things are ordered: then all the waiters have to be tipped. She doesn’t understand. Charlotta behaving the same. And Yasha – Yasha? She has him for a manservant now. He orders for himself, whatever he wants. We brought him back with us.
Varya Yes, I’ve seen him.
Anya Heigh-ho!
Varya Heigh-ho. (And blows her nose.)
Anya And how are ‘tricks’ here? Have you managed to pay off anything?
Varya With what? The estate will be sold in August.
Anya (‘My God!’), Ho-heigh!
Lopakhin comes in, was considering joining them, does a circle instead/an about-turn, goes out again, talking to himself :
Lopakhin Moo-oo – Baaa – Wuff-wuff – Miaow!
Varya Oh, that! (With her fist – she could hit him.)
Anya Has he said anything? (Varya shakes her head.) Why don’t you – explain – yourself to him, to each other. Everyone says – knows – he loves you.
Varya He’s too busy to pay any attention to me.
Anya No-o-o-o. (Silently.)
Varya And that’s fine by me. Honestly, Anya, I’d prefer it if he kept away from here entirely, honestly I would! Bless him, but it annoys me to see him – Yes-it-does – And good riddance. Everyone is on about a wedding day, everyone congratulates him, congratulates me, and it’s all about – nothing. It’s all someone’s dream! (New tone.) Your broach is like a little . . . bee?
Anya Mama. (Meaning ‘Mama bought it’. Going off to her room.) I went up in a balloon in Paris.
Varya (follows to Anya’s room door) My beautiful one is back.
Dunyasha has returned with coffee pot and coffee things.
Varya (at Anya’s door) . . . I never stop dreaming. I run the house, I go about my work, all day long, and d’you know what I dream? If only we could get you married. I’d be at peace then. I’d go off to a retreat then. To Kiev. Then Moscow. I’d walk to the monasteries, to all of Russia’s holy places. I’d walk, I’d walk, and walk. And it would be bliss.
Anya (off) The birds are starting to sing.
Varya Yes, it’s time for you to sleep. It would be bliss. (She has gone into Anya’s room.)
Yasha, an affected young manservant, comes in carrying a rug and a travelling bag.
Yasha Mamzelle? May one come through here?
Dunyasha Yasha?!
Yasha Hmm.
Dunyasha I hardly recognise you: You’ve changed so much abroad.
Yasha And? . . . You may be – Who?
Dunyasha Me, Dunyasha! Fyodor Kozoyedov’s daughter.
Yasha Aaaa!
Dunyasha When you left I was only . . . [‘about that size’]
Yasha The cucumber. (A quick look round before he grabs her in an embrace.) A cuke!
She shrieks, drops a saucer. He leaves quickly.
Varya Now what?! What is going on in here? (She comes in.)
Dunyasha Broke [a] saucer, miss.
Anya (off) Varya?
Varya Well, a broken saucer brings luck.
Anya (coming in) Mama ought to be warned Petya’s here.
Varya I’ve given instructions that he shouldn’t be woken.
Anya My beautiful little brother, Grisha, drowned in the river. Petya was his tutor. It was a terrible time for her. Papa died only a month before that. She went away without once looking back. If only she knew how I understand things. Petya may bring it all back of a sudden . . . Varya?
Varya is in tears again. Firs comes in, short jacket and white waistcoat. He is putting on white gloves.
Firs The mistress will take coffee in here now. (Inspecting things.) Is the coffee prepared? (To himself.) Shit! You! Simpleton! Where is the cream?!
Dunyasha Oh, my God! (Hurrying out.)
Firs Bungle-arse! (Fussing over the coffee things, talking to himself.) The old master, too, you know, went to Paris once, in a carriage. Horses in those days . . . (And he’s laughing to himself.)
Varya Firs, what is it?
Firs (joyfully) My mistress has returned, you know. I’ve lived to see it. Now I can die.
Dunyasha returns with the cream and stands by. Lyubov, Gayev, Lopakhin and Pishchik are coming in (the latter wearing the traditional – older form of dress). Gayev is miming billiard shots.
Gayev (off) Declare that shot for me, sister.
Lyubov Red into the corner –
Gayev Yellow! – Yellow first – screw-shot! –
Lyubov Double back for the red? –
Gayev Two cushions –
Lyubov And into the middle! (They are laughing.)
Gayev . . . Isn’t it strange: once upon a time, sister, you and I slept in this room. Now I’m fifty-one.
Lopakhin Time flies.
Gayev Wha-oo? (His own form of ‘What?’, a sound that is part of his vagueness.)
Lopakhin Time flies.
Gayev Smell of – hmm? (Sniffing the air.) Mint, patchouli?
Anya I’m going to bed. (Kiss.) Mama.
Lyubov Goodnight, my precious. Are you happy to be home? I’m not come to my senses yet.
Anya Goodnight, uncle.
Gayev (kisses her) God bless you. So like your mother. You were, Lulu, exactly like this at her age.
Anya shakes hands with Lopakhin and Pishchik and goes to her room.
Lyubov She’s very tired.
Pishchik Journey: Five days, what, four nights!
Vary
a Well, gentlemen, it’s nearly three. (Time to call it a day.)
Lyubov Oh, Varya, my little nun! [‘The same as ever’] I’ll drink my coffee, then we’ll all go. (Firs places a cushion at her feet.) Thank you, thank you. I’ve got used to coffee. I drink it in the morning, I drink it in the night.
Varya I’ll check that everything’s brought in. (She goes.)
Lyubov Is this really me sitting here? (Laughs.) I want to leap about and shout. (Hands to her face.) Horrors! What if I’m dreaming it? (Becoming emotional.) I love my country, God knows I do. I love my homeland so much. In the train I couldn’t look out of the window, I kept crying. But, I must-have-my-coffee! Thank you, Firs, dear little old friend, I’m so glad you are still alive.
Firs The day before yesterday.
Gayev His hearing’s bad.
Lopakhin Lyubov Andreyevna, you’re looking awfully well, splendid! Those eyes! I wanted to sit down and have a good look at you, have a good talk but – It’s a nuisance: I have to set off for Kharkov at –
Pishchik Awfully well!
Lopakhin Yes! At five o’clock [‘this morning’], if you please, and –
Pishchik Dressed like a Parisian, what!
Lopakhin Yes! And –
Pishchik Head over heels, I am, I am!
Lopakhin But! Your brother here – he calls me a boor, a grabber, a jumped-up bumpkin. Water off my back, he can say what he likes. It’s you I want to listen to me and look at me with those amazing eyes and trust my advice. Merciful hour! my father was one of your father’s and grandfather’s serfs, but you, you once did something for me – did so much for me – I’ve forgotten all that and I love you – care for you – like a relative – more than a relative.
Lyubov I can’t sit down. (She’s up, walking about.) I can’t sit still. This – joy! – is too much for me. Laugh at me: I know I’m a silly! (Emotionally.) My little table, bookcase – everything! My little table. (She kisses it.)
Gayev Nanny died while you were away.
Lyubov God rest her. Someone wrote to me. (Sits again with her coffee.)
Gayev Anastasiy too. (She nods.) . . . Petrushka? Cross-eyed one? He left. Some kind of work in town now with the police. (He takes a box of fruit-drops from his pocket and sucks one.)
Pishchik Dashenka? My daughter? . . . Sends her regards.
Lopakhin (looks at his watch) I want to say something pleasant, something that will cheer us all up. I haven’t much time now – Well, in a nutshell. Cherry orchard, your estate, is going to be sold by public auction to pay off your debts – No, wait a minute! There’s a way out – You can sleep soundly, my dear Lyubov Andreyevna. Here’s the plan. Attention please! Divide up the whole estate into plots and lease the plots for holiday cottages.
Gayev I’m sorry, what-is-this?! [‘rubbish’]
Lopakhin You’ll have – at the very least – a yearly income of twenty-five thousand roubles.
Lyubov I don’t understand, Yermolay.
Lopakhin You’ll get – at the very least – twenty-five roubles per acre per year and if you advertise now, I’ll bet you anything you like, by autumn you won’t have a single plot left, they’ll be snapped up. The location is perfect: thirteen miles from the town – the railway now is laid on there – the river is deep: bathing! Wonderful! In a word, congratulations, you’re saved. Some preliminary stuff of course, cleaning up a bit – (Gestures: ‘nothing to it’.) Those old buildings, demolish them, this house for a start – what earthly use is it now? – and cut down the trees.
Lyubov Cut down the? Excuse me, my dear.
Gayev Yes, ex-cuse-me!
Lyubov I’m sorry, but you don’t understand anything.
Lopakhin But you know the place is going to be sold, you know that, don’t you?
Lyubov If there’s an interesting or remarkable thing in the whole province it’s the orchard.
Lopakhin The only remarkable thing about Cherryorchard is that it’s very large.
Gayev Tck!
Lopakhin And it fruits only once every two years, and even at that you can hardly give the cherries away.
Gayev The orchard is mentioned in the Encyclopaedia Russica.
Lopakhin (looks at his watch) Well, unless there’s another way, at the auction on the 22nd of August, your – Cherrylands – are gone . . . There-is-absolutely-no-other-way!
Gayev Is there not!
Lopakhin I swear to you. So, make up your minds about it.
Firs In the old days, you know, they dried the cherries, and they used to soak them, put them in jars, made jam. And they used to –
Gayev Be quiet, Firs.
Firs Yes. Send them to Moscow and Kharkov. Wagonloads. (Laughs.) They fetched some money! The dried cherries in those days were soft, juicy, sweet, fragrant. They knew the recipe then.
Lyubov And where is the recipe now?
Firs Forgotten.
Pishchik What about Paris? Did you eat frogs? Let’s hear.
Lyubov I ate a crocodile.
Pishchik (credulous) You actually?! (They laugh.)
Lopakhin But, you know, it’s interesting to watch. Up to now only the gentry and the peasants lived in the country. Now these summer visitors have started appearing all over. All the towns, even the small ones, are becoming surrounded by these holiday cottages, and they’re going to go on multiplying?
Gayev Tck!
Lopakhin At the moment your holiday-maker just sits around on his verandah drinking tea, but it’s going to happen that he’ll start to grow things on his hectare and then see all the land all about – the provinces! – here! – flourishing, become rich, thriving, happy.
Gayev What nonsense!
Varya returns with Yasha.
Varya Mamochka, two telegrams arrived for you. (She unlocks the bookcase.)
Lyubov From where?
Varya Paris. Here they are.
Lyubov I’ve finished with Paris. (She tears them up without reading them.)
Gayev Lyubov, d’you know how old that bookcase is? Last week I pulled out the bottom drawer and there, branded in the wood, was the date. (He has risen.) This bookcase was made exactly one hundred years ago. How’s that for you?
Pishchik One hundred?!
Gayev One hundred. Eh? We should be celebrating its centenary. It may be an inanimate object but, whichever way you look at it, it’s a bookcase.
Pishchik Fancy that!
Gayev What a piece of work! (He strokes the bookcase.) Dear Venerable and Most Respected! we salute your custodial existence, which for a century now has been directed to the noblest ideals of man. Your silent call to fruitful labour has not weakened over time – (Emotional.) Nor has that call to labour fallen on deaf ears – instilling in generations of this family a cheerful faith in a better future and a dedication to the shining ideals of goodness, social self-awareness and justice for all.
Pause.
Lopakhin Yes. Well.
Lyubov Oh Leo, Leo! [‘You haven’t changed’]
Gayev (to cover his embarrassment) In-off, right-hand corner, screw-shot back for red, middle pocket!
Yasha Would you care to take your pills now, madam?
Lopakhin I must be going.
Pishchik (comes to) What’s that! (He has been nodding off – and on – during the above.) Pills? They do you no good – Show them here, give them here. (He takes the box of pills, shakes them out into his hand and blows on them.) Do you no good, do you no bad. Watch this. (He swallows them, washing them down with kvass.)
Lyubov Boris Borisovich!
Pishchik There!
Lyubov Are you mad?!
Pishchik I’ve taken the lot!
Lopakhin What a stomach!
They laugh.
Firs He was here too at Easter and ate half-a-bucket of pickles. (And continues muttering.)
Lyubov What does he say?
Varya He’s been rambling like that for three years now.
Yasha Cuckoo.
Charlotta comes in, crossing the ro
om. (A white dress, tightly laced, lorgnette on her belt; thin.)
Lopakhin Charlotta Ivanovna! I haven’t said hello to you. (He goes to take her hand.)
Charlotta Nein! If I allow you to kiss my hand, you will want to kiss my elbow, then my other elbow, then . . . ?
Lopakhin Today is not my lucky day. (They laugh.) Do us a trick then.
Charlotta No.
Lyubov Do, Charlotta, show us a trick!
Charlotta But I must go to my . . . (Unsmiling, po-faced.) Who is that knocking out there? (A knock on a door, as from outside.) Who is that knocking at my door, who wants to come in? (More knocking, a ‘special’ knocking.) Ah, it is m’sieur, my fiancé. (She goes.) I’m called to bed!
They laugh.
Lopakhin Well, it’s time for me to go. We’ll see one another in three weeks. (Bows to Lyubov.) Till then, madame? (To Gayev.) Sir! Far-thee-well. (Kisses Pishchik.) And far-thee-well too, my friend. (Shakes hands with Varya.) Goodbye. (And with Firs and Yasha.) I wish I didn’t have to go, but! (He flaps his hands. To Lyubov.) If you make your mind up – you know, about what I was saying – let me know. I can organise the money for the preliminary work and – and so forth. So. Well . . . Give it some serious thought.
Varya I thought you said you were going?!
Lopakhin Going! I’m gone. (He’s gone.)
Gayev Businessman: a boor. (Silently.) Oh! Beg pardon. Varya’s going to marry him, he’s Varya’s fiancé.
Varya Please, uncle. All this joking!
Lyubov Well, Varya, I shall be very happy about it.
Varya About what?
Lyubov He’s a good man.
Pishchik True, true, worthy fellow. And my daughter, daughter, Dashenka says . . . you’ve got to, got to hand it to him. She says . . . various things. (He nods off with a snort, the same snort immediately waking him up.) By the by: lend me two hundred and forty roubles. The interest’s got to be paid on the mortgage tomorrow.
Varya She can’t!
Pishchik What’s that?!
Varya We haven’t got it!
Lyubov I really don’t think I do! (She laughs.)
Pishchik It’ll turn up! (He laughs.) Never lose hope. I don’t! I thought ‘I’m done for!’, and what happens? They come along and build a railway through my land.
They laugh with him through the above and the following. Firs, perhaps, too. And Dunyasha is happy because they are laughing. And Varya does her best.
